


the light between the stars

by itsabirditsaplaneitsmediocrefanfics



Series: south park superhero au [2]
Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Multi, South Park: The Fractured But Whole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-19 06:50:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14868818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsabirditsaplaneitsmediocrefanfics/pseuds/itsabirditsaplaneitsmediocrefanfics
Summary: "Revenge is never a straight line. It's a forest, and like a forest it's easy to lose your way." - Kill Bill, Quentin Tarantino, Uma ThurmanThe past, distant and near, haunt the heroes after they try to rebuild from Cthulhu's attempts to destroy them.There's enough context clues that you don't have to read the first one necessarily.





	1. Shadows shifting in the rain

**Author's Note:**

> The song that inspired this chapter is real baby makin' music. 
> 
> I have a Tumblr : mediocrefanfics
> 
> Feel free to talk to me on there! I take AU suggestions, plot suggestions, whatever!
> 
> And the saga continues !!

_I feel the weather change_

_I hear the river say your name_

_I watch the birds fly by_

_I see an emerald in the sky_

_Now how the trail has gone cold_

_I don't know where else to go_

_And my time, I fear, is nearly over_

_When the ocean drinks the sky_

_And the city winks its eye_

_When the night is done, you'll vanish in the sun_

_Will I hold you when the night is over?_

_Am I lost inside my mind?_

_There's an emerald in the sky_

_I hear the river say your name_

_By the stars above, I know we were in love_

_I hear the river say your name_

_I have only 'til the night is over_

**_"When the Night is Done", Lord Huron_ **

 

Craig slips his hand underneath Tweek’s neck, searching for the switch. There’s a knot in his stomach he can’t untie, but feeling Tweek’s soft hair in his fingers brings back the reminder his husband is alive.

Craig just has to make it through these first few moments. He hopes to the deepest depths of his heart Tweek doesn’t remember the feeling of poison coursing through his veins.

Craig finds the spot and pushes. The moment feels so intimate it makes him lean in to kiss Tweek on the forehead, and Tweek’s eyes open drowsily, like he wasn’t all but dead just a couple weeks earlier.

They’re still that pretty mix of blue and green, like ocean water.

Craig gasps for air as Tweek’s slender hands grip at his neck. His eyes are wide now, and he’s breathing in short increments.

“Tweek, Tweek, it’s me - let go,” Craig chokes, well aware he could remove Tweek’s hand on his own but not wanting to frighten him further.

It’s like a light turns back on in Tweek’s head.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” His voice is like sandpaper, and he stares at his hand, flexing his fingers.  “I.. Everything was just so cold and dark, Craig, I knew you and Tucker were in danger, but there wasn’t anything I could do and -”

Craig shushes him, embracing him for the first time in months.He doesn’t know what Tweek will decide about the divorce, but after bringing him back from near-death, he’s just happy to feel Tweek’s warm tears - synthetic or not - soak his shirt

“Oh god, it burned so bad. So, so bad,” Tweek chokes, his gasping becoming more and more erratic.

“You’re having a panic attack. You have to take a deep breath.” Craig holds him closer, knowing the tightness will bring him down.

Tweek pulls away with too much force, though. “Tucker -”

“Is safe with my sister at home. Our home.” Craig watches Tweek’s face soften for a second before he winces, and Craig braces himself for what’s coming.

“I feel weird, Craig. Really weird,” Tweek croaks. He puts a hand around his own throat and looks at Craig in a panic. “My voice?”

“It should go back to normal soon,” Craig says, stroking his hair. Tweek is proud of his voice, and Craig can’t stand to tell him there’s a chance he won’t be able to sing like he used to.

He sniffles. They sit in silence for a little while. The halogen lights of the lab start to burn Craig's eyes a little.

“Why can’t I feel my heartbeat?” Tweek says this so quietly, Craig almost misses it. “How - how did you save me?”

For a second Craig doesn’t know what to say, but in the end he always shoots his shit straight, so he begins to tell Tweek of all the alterations they made to his body.

“I’m a monster.” The look in Tweek’s face is so lost Craig feels himself subconsciously holding him closer.

“You’re not a monster, Tweek. They’re just prosthetics.”

“How much of my body is mechanical?” When Craig doesn’t answer, Tweek tilts his chin towards him and forces Craig to meet his eyes. “Tell me.”

It’s more than half.

The bitter laugh Tweek makes when Craig tells him this breaks his heart.

Tweek sits up suddenly. He hops off the examination table just to immediately crumple to the floor, his legs not yet ready to support him. Craig sits on the concrete floor next to him and kisses the side of his head. 

  “They tried to kill our baby.” Tweek’s jaw is clenched so tight it comes out as a hiss.

Craig makes a small noise at the tingle of electricity Tweek’s emotions let out. He decides to stay quiet. In his experience, it’s best to let Tweek think these things out himself.

“They convinced me you had a part in it. They almost ruined our marriage.”

Not a word, Craig reminds himself.

“Kenny… Kenny convinced me. Kenny poisoned me, and then laughed about it.”

Craig guesses right now is the time to start talking. “Actually, he was possessed.”

“I know that,” Tweek says. “That thing was inside of me. You think that altar was just for aesthetics?” Tweek narrows his eyes. “I could see the truth. He did it to save Butters.”

“Right. Wouldn’t you do the same for me?”

The look Tweek gives him reminds Craig of his mouthy teenage years. “Oh, please. You’re my husband. They weren’t even together.”

“Do you think you’re maybe trying to comprehend your feelings about this by pinning it on -”

“And Cartman,” he says with a snarl.

“Okay, Cartman probably deserves your wrath, but Tweek, do you think you’ll be any better than him if-” Craig tries to talk sense into him, but he knows by the rage in Tweek’s face there’s no use.

“I’m going to make them lie there, helpless and in pain like I did, and I’m going to threaten everyone they love and there’s not a damn thing they’ll be able to do about it.”

Perhaps if Tweek had roared this, it wouldn’t have sent shivers down Craig’s body. But Tweek whispers it so lightly it disappears in the frosty air that rolls from his lips.

Craig doesn’t know how to stop this change in Tweek, so he does what he’s always done when Tweek is worked up. He pulls him into his lap and holds him close.

Tweek suddenly tangles his fingers in Craig’s hair. His eyes have that familiar look of panic, but there’s an edge to it Craig can’t - or doesn’t - want to place.“Do you still love me?”

Craig sighs before leaning in and kissing him with all the emotion and grief he’s felt in the last few months. The familiar little noise Tweek makes when their lips collide vibrates through time, and Craig knows without a shadow of a doubt this is still his Tweek.

He pulls away. “Of course I still love you.”

“I want to see our son.”

Craig helps him up from the floor. “Then let’s go home, baby.”

Craig wants this to be the resolution. He wants everything to go back to normal so desperately it makes his heart ache. But he knows by the look swimming behind Tweek’s eyes none of this is over.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“How’s the world’s worst hockey coach?” Ike says, throwing an arm around Stan.

Stan rolls his eyes and good naturedly punches him in the side, only to wince. Ike has grown into every bit the mountain man Kyle described him as.

“Fine, I guess. How’s he doing?”

Ike leads him to the living room, where Kyle is asleep on the couch. He’s pale and is starting to look a little too thin, but he looks comfortable. Stan is relieved he’s finally out of the hospital.

“Alright. Still doesn’t remember much of anything, but he’s starting to be more like himself.” Ike shakes his head. “Yesterday morning he looked over at me from across the table and said, ‘Kick the baby?’ out of nowhere.”

Stan laughs, but it sounds empty. “Anyone come by to see him?”

Ike raises his eyebrows at his tone. “Well, Bunny came by and visited. That was a trip.”

“I can only imagine. Anyone else?”

“Heidi Turner.”

“Huh,” Stan says, crossing his arms and watching his best friend sleep. Stan’s always had a weakness for feeling the need to protect, and he reckons he’s never felt it more than now.

“Listen, Stan, right now is not the time to be discovering any weird feelings…”

Stan blushes. “It’s not that!”

There’s a hard look in Ike’s eyes - they’re icy blue and nothing like the warm brown of his brother’s.

“It’s really not, Ike. Believe me. Just watch out for her, okay?” Stan’s eyebrows knit together, and Ike has known him long enough to recognize what that means.

“Okay. But you have to tell me why.”

“I can’t,” Stan says, reaching over the back of the couch and pulling the blanket up from where Kyle had kicked it off.

Ike sighs, watching Stan’s tender act. “Just promise me this - don’t start stirring anything back up.”

Stan grips the couch. “Just keep him safe, okay?”

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_“Seriously?” Stan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Seriously? You’re extorting me?” The nurse at the front desk gives him a dirty look._

_“No,” Heidi hoarse whispers, looking particularly un-intimidating in her yellow sweater. “Extortion would mean money is involved. I am blackmailing you.”_

_Stan can’t believe this is happening, but he feels sick thinking about the consequences. “Why, though?”_

_“Because Kyle and I are meant to be together. Because I’m going to make everything up to him.”_

_“By blackmailing his best friend and purposefully lying to him?”_

_“I’m not dumb, Stan. You’ll try and sabotage us.” Heidi stands on her tiptoes and pokes his chest with her finger for emphasis. “I’ll tell Wendy about what you did, I swear.”_

_Stan raises an eyebrow at her and steps back. “What the hell does that mean?”_

_“You just want him for yourself.”_

_Stan doesn’t know what to say, so he just crosses his arms and looks away. “Just promise you won’t hurt him.”_

_“I promise. Why would I hurt him?”_

_Stan looks at Heidi like she’s crazy. “The last time I saw you he was defending himself from you.” Stan scoffs. “I should’ve let him shoot you.”_

_“No, you wouldn’t have because Kyle isn’t a killer and you know it would’ve haunted him forever.” Heidi flips her hair over her shoulder. “I’m not doing this to hurt him. It’s the opposite. He was happy with me, Stan.”_

_“I know he was,” Stan breathes, and he sees a flicker of empathy in Heidi’s eyes. “How am I supposed to believe you?”_

_“I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”_

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Daddy?” Tucker’s face lights up, and he throws his chubby toddler arms around Tweek’s neck.

Tweek laughs and buries his face in his hair. “Yeah, baby, it’s me.”

Craig put a hand on the small of his back, wrapping his other arm around them. A lamp bathes their cozy living room in warm light, and Tweek is just so happy to be back with his little family.

The feeling that follows is like being plunged into ice water. All of this was so very close to being ripped from him.

He begins to cry.

“Tweek?” Craig asks, taking Tucker from him and sitting the little boy on the floor.

Tweek collapses on the couch, and Tucker climbs up in his father’s lap. He reaches a little hand up to Tweek’s face, which only makes him cry harder.

“Hey, kiddo, Daddy isn’t feeling good right now. Why don’t you let Aunt Trish make you some mashed potatoes?”

Tricia, who is giving their reunion some space in the kitchen, hears her call and comes in to get him. She and Craig agreed to have her on hand in case this became too much for Tweek.

“Mash potato?”

Tricia kisses Tucker on the top of his head, taking him into the kitchen.

Craig brushes the tears off of Tweek’s face.

“They- they almost took him from us,” Tweek sobs, his hoarse voice breaking with every syllable.

“But they didn’t.”

Tweek sits up and buries his face in Craig’s neck. He’s silent. Half an hour passes, and Craig soaks in the feeling of his husband's thin body pressed against him. The only noise is Tucker’s babble in the kitchen and Tweek’s heavy breathing.

“Tweek?” Craig shifts himself slightly into more of a comfortable position. Tweek’s limbs are heavy, and Craig realizes he’s asleep.

He notices Tricia in the doorway and gives her a worried look. Craig gets up slowly, lowering Tweek into a lying position. He curls up and lets out a deep sigh.

“I’m going outside to smoke,” Craig whispers, and Tricia nods.

The cold air feels good to him, and the darkness envelops him like a blanket. Tweek has always been afraid of the dark, but Craig has always embraced it - there’s something comfortable in its emptiness. His all-time dream is to drift in the ultimate darkness up in space - but Craig is over the height restriction by an inch, so he settles for his inventions being launched up there.

He sits on his front steps. The tidy little neighborhood they live in is quiet and still in the night, a contrast to their old apartment in the middle of Metro they had moved from since they adopted Tucker. Craig had never wanted children - they were everything he disliked. Messy, loud, unpredictable, needy, which thinking about it, described Tweek to a degree, but that was _different_.

In the end, he wouldn’t change their decision to raise him for anything in the world. Tucker was their child just as much as he would be if he were their genetic son. Craig worries every day what’ll happen when he discovers the truth about his birth parents. He worries if Tucker will still love him when he finds out Craig was the one who took their lives. Completely in self-defense, but still, it was a distasteful thing.

Tweek always tells him they’ll wait until he’s old enough to understand, but it doesn’t stop the flashbacks of the capillaries bursting in the same brown eyes Tucker has when he -

Craig puts his head in between his knees. He counts the things he can see and hear like Tweek told him to do when he gets like this. Tweek has always urged him to go see a psychologist, but these are things he can’t really talk about. No one knows outside of a select few people he’s Super, anyway.

Plan of actions are what always calms Craig in the end. He pulls out his phone from his jacket pocket. The screen photo is one of him and Tweek on their wedding day, and it makes him smile. Even through all this bullshit he never changed it.

He doesn’t have Ike’s number, but he dials Kyle’s, which like he assumed, is answered by Ike. He takes a deep breath. It really isn’t betraying Tweek, he reminds himself. Craig might be hypocritical for this, but he doesn’t want Tweek to be haunted by the same things he is. “Hey, Ike? I need you to pass a message along.”

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Are you sure you don’t want to see him?” Bebe asks, putting on her jacket and grabbing her keys. “He misses you, Clyde. They both do. Tweek’s alive. Isn’t that enough?”

Clyde shakes his head stubbornly, sliding down further on the couch. “That’s not Tweek.”

Bebe winces. “That’s a cruel thing to say.”

“Does he seem the same to you?”

Bebe pauses. Tweek is different. His motions are a little off, not to mention his voice, but Craig whispered to her that would eventually go away as he got used to his… alterations. That’s not just it, though. There’s something Bebe can’t put a finger on. It’s like Tweek is more distant, like he’s looking at everything through a foggy window. Bebe has a feeling that doesn’t have to with his new robotic body parts.

“Tweek.. He’s different now, Clyde. But not because of his surgery.” Bebe sighs. “I think he’s changed from what happened, what he experienced. Kind of like you have.” She hopes the last part doesn’t sound too cold.

“Well, I don’t want to have a part in it.” Clyde refuses to turn around and look at her, his eyes trained on football game on TV even though Bebe know damn well he doesn’t give a fuck about the Saints or the Cowboys.

Bebe feels a tug of annoyance. She’s tried really hard to be sympathetic and understanding with Clyde, but his attitude is starting to wear on her. “Well, sit here and pout while I have fun with our friends.”

And with that, Bebe slams the door.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Thank god you told us,” Karen says, handing Ike a cup of coffee. Her long, black nails make a clinking sound against the ceramic.

“Gee, I just feel so bad that Tweek really thinks we wanted any of this.” Butters buries his face in his hands.

 _“He’s being ridiculous. We shouldn’t run. We should go set things straight,”_ Kenny says.

Butters relays the message, and Ike shakes his head. “I’ve already talked to Craig. He said Tweek is in a lot of shock, and unless you want to face him on by physical force - which he made it clear he would step in for Tweek - and I quote - ‘crush the fuck out of the both of you’ - then it be best you lay low for awhile.”

 _“Leave it to Craig to try to keep the peace by threatening to crush us,”_ Kenny says.

Butters giggles and then blushes, realizing Karen and Ike can’t hear Kenny. “But how do we do that? Tweek will find us in a heartbeat in South Park. It wouldn’t even be that hard to find us in the city…”

“You can stay at my cabin.” Ike sighs, resting his chin in his hand. “I’m not using it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s a lot nicer than Kyle has probably made it out to be. He always acts like I’m some bear-wrestling fur trapper.”

Kenny catches Butters’s thought before Butters himself realizes he’s thinking it.

 _“It’ll still be a romantic trip, Butterscup. It’s what you’ve always wanted, right?”_ Kenny says, his voice soft.

 _“Yeah, but now you’re only going because you have to,”_ Butters thinks, and Kenny goes quiet.

Karen and Ike pass a look between each other, and Butters realizes he’s being rude. “I’m sorry, we were just discussing it. That’s mighty nice of you, Ike. We’ll take you up on your offer, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” Ike says. “I’m not, uh, telling you what to do, but I think you should probably leave like… right now.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

No matter what goes on between the heroes, crime never stops, so neither do they.

The heroes have their own reasons for doing what they do. Some want a safer world for their loved ones. Some enjoy the fame and occasional money. Some do it just to find reasoning in their existence.

Everyone always misjudges the Coon’s reasoning.

He looks over the city. Its winking lights seem endless and all-consuming. When he thinks about how every light is connected to a person - someone driving home for work or a bedroom lamp or the glow of a hospital room - he feels overwhelmed.

The Coon looks over at Toolshed. “Sooo you don’t want to kill me?”

Toolshed continues to watch the city. “No, but I’ll tell you right now Tweek does.”

The Coon is quiet for a second. “I guess I deserve it, Stan.”

Toolshed gives him a look. “Don’t call me that when we’re out here, man.”

The Coon rolls his eyes. “But I'd like to see the asshole try.”

Toolshed groans loudly, unable to keep in his frustration. “Do you really think you can take on Super and Wonder?”

The Coon shrugs.

“It’s probably lucky for you he’s more pissed at Kenny at the moment. I’d go in hiding if I were you.”

The Coon only shrugs again.

“By the way, Heidi Turner is a big fucking problem still. Thanks for that.” Stan’s voice is much colder than it was before.

“I didn’t know she was going to try to kill him. That was between her and Cthulhu,” Coon says, with an inexplicably annoyed tone. “She was only supposed to break his heart.”

Stan catches himself before mentioning the blackmail. The last thing he wants to do is admit to the Coon he tried to fuck his best friend the night before his wedding.

“Why? Scared you won’t have your boyfriend tied around your finger anymore?” the Coon goads.

Ignoring the dirty look Stan gives him, the Coon turns away from the view and sighs. “I couldn’t give less of a fuck about any of you, but I do feel guilty about Kyle.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We’re best friends after all.” Stan can’t tell if the Coon is being facetious or not, but before he can say anything, he disappears into the darkness.


	2. I'm not into 'sometimes'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a Tumblr btw, and you can ask me questions, chat, ask me to write stuff, make suggestions, and we'll have a good 'ol time.
> 
> It's mediocrefanfics.
> 
> Thanks for the support, guys <3
> 
> Also, yay for photographer!Butters, I guess. 
> 
> And I know this is a weird Kenny (maybe), but I'm playing of the DLC where he gets kind of shitty at Karen for hanging out with the "vampires". So I kinda wanted him to have an element of "he just really cares, but also he goes too far with it sometimes" angle.

_I'm so tired of moving on_

_Spending every weekend so far gone_

_Heat wave, nothing to do_

_Woke up in my clothes having dreamt of you_

**_Heat Wave, Snail Mail_ **

****

Butters kneels down as still as he can, focusing his lense on the little green bug perching itself on a leaf. It’s one of those photos that will never mean anything to anyone else - it’s not poetic or even a great shot - but it’s one Butters will keep in a folder somewhere on his computer for a long time.

And if he survives this whole thing, he’ll look at it one day and remember how he felt next to this pond, nothing but wilderness for miles. The idea comforts him.

_“I don’t get it. Why don’t you do this for a living?”_ Butters can feel Kenny stir in his mind. He had been quiet for most of the morning, and Butters wonders if he was off somewhere, in another dimension.

“I used to. Don’t you remember?” Butters sighs. “I have a thousand of you.” Kenny really likes his photo taken. 

_“Or you could dance.”_

“I do dance.”

_“You know what I mean.”_

“You and everyone else make a lot of assumptions about what it is I actually do.”

_“I just want you to be happy.”_

“Why?” Butters doesn’t mean any sassiness in his question - he’s honestly curious.

Kenny is silent for a second. _“Because you’re my friend.”_

“You know, you send a lot of mixed signals.” Butters has danced around this situation since Kenny first kissed him during a high school English tutoring session. He knows it was presumptuous for him to think when he went to the good side, he and Kenny would finally officially be together.

_“What does ‘officially’ even mean?”_

Butters doesn’t say anything.

_“You don’t want to be with me, Butters. Look what happened already.”_

He lies back onto the grass and stares up the sky. He takes a shot and deletes it. It’s just the empty sky, overblown with brightness from the sun. It’s meaningless.

Kenny starts to hum an aimless tune.

“But I do.” Butters sighs, minutes later, and let’s the overbearing light overwhelm him. It’s not the heat of Hawaii he misses so much, but it’s warmer in Canada that he thought it would be.

Kenny changes the subject conveniently. _“We can’t just lie here in the sun. We’ve got to figure out something.”_

“I don’t want to fight our friends.”

_“Me neither, but if it comes to it… If we can beat Cthulhu, then he’ll chill out, right?”_

“And how are we going to do that, buddy?”

“ _I’ll be honest, I have no clue, but I’m working on it._ ” The wind picks up, and somewhere a bird’s piercing call carries over the pond. _“Do you believe in me?”_

“Of course,” Butter sighs, the wind carrying the words off into the air.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Tweek giggles into Craig’s ear, nuzzling the side of his face. This is the best he’s felt lately, even though his voice remains gritty, and he still doesn’t feel quite _right_. He has endlessly dark nightmares, and sometimes, even when he’s awake, he sees the smoky tendrils reach out from dark spaces.

But for a second, he feels like his old self.

Craig smiles at him, and Tweek loves it, because Craig doesn’t just smile for anyone.

Tweek pushes the chilling thought he has of Craig dead at the altar with him out of his mind, and instead tries to focus on the warmth of the blankets and Craig’s slightly damp body.

It’s a rare treat, anyway. Tucker is at daycare, and for once, they don’t have to worry about a tiny toddler busting their door down while they’re in the middle of sex.

Life right now feels like an endless battle, but Tweek is sure with Craig next to him, he can win it.

“I knew that’d cheer you up, babe,” Craig says, and Tweek kisses him, body tensing pleasantly at the memories of just minutes ago.

Craig’s phone vibrates from the side table, and he picks it up. It’s a message from Ike, and he puts it down quickly, hoping Tweek didn’t see it.

But like everything going on in Craig’s life right now, he can’t catch a break.

“Why is Ike texting you?” Tweek asks in the shrill voice he uses when he’s on the brink of a freak out, but this time it crackles and pops like electricity.

Craig searches his husband’s face. Tweek has aged better than he has, but the bags under his eyes have gotten worse. “Tweek, we’re all worried about you.”

Balls to the wall, Craig Tucker will always go with the band-aid approach.

Tweek widens his eyes. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“I just think you’re jumping the gun a bit, babe. You know I hate Cartman just as much as you do, but he’s… trying to make it up. He really did help us out. And Butters and Kenny… I know what they did wasn’t the best thought out, but Kenny did what he thought he had to do to save Butters,” Craig says. “This can all be over if you just let it go.”

“You - you of all people are saying this to me?” Tweek gets out of the bed, quickly shuffling to put his clothes back on.

“Tweek, no, don’t -” Craig reaches for him, but he shoves his hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Tweek starts wiping his tears away angrily. “For one, if it had happened to you, they’d all be dead by now.”

“Is that really how you fucking see me? After all this time, you think I’m just some … some…” Craig gets up himself, tearing through the blankets to find his pants. He can’t bring himself to say the word.

Tweek shakes his head. He tangles his fingers in his own hair. “It doesn’t end, Craig. You don’t understand. It will always haunt me. Every time I realize I don’t have a heartbeat anymore, I can’t handle it, okay? It’s just another reminder.”

“So should I have let you just die? Is that what you’re saying?”

Tweek looks at him, hurt. He brings his hands down and crosses them. The tears roll out of his big hazel eyes and crystallize into ice before they hit the floor. Craig wonders if Tweek has noticed they’re not salty anymore.

“I don’t know who you are anymore,” Craig says finally, desperately.

Tweek grabs his black T-shirt and pulls it over his head. He doesn’t say a word.

Craig is terrified. Tweek is a tempest when he’s pissed, all shouting and threats. But this is Tweek _furious_ , and it’s quiet and still like the eye of the storm.

“Tweek? I didn’t mean it like that. This just isn’t you … You’re better than this. You’re not me. You know what I mean?”

“Okay, Craig.” Tweek walks out of the bedroom, and Craig follows him.

“Please…” He grabs Tweek’s arm gently, and Tweek rips it away. He spins around and faces Craig, and for a second, Craig isn’t quite sure Tweek won’t hit him.

He doesn’t. Instead he kisses him.

Craig is wide-eyed. Tweek reaches up and runs his his thumb down Craig’s jawline lovingly.

“I know what you meant.” He takes a deep breath. “You forget I’m the one that holds you after your night terrors. But Craig, I feel so helpless. Even now, I feel so fucking incredibly helpless. I was stupid and believed Kenny, and you and Tucker were in the line of fire. And there was nothing I could do.” Tweek’s shoulders shake. “I could hear him tell you to use the knife, you know that? That’s how that shit was supposed to work. I was supposed to be the unwilling soul and you were supposed to be the willing one. That’s how fucked up this is.”

Craig is speechless for a second before forcing himself to speak. “But do you really think revenge will make you feel better?”

Tweek shrugs. He grabs the wool sweater he keeps next to the door that he doesn’t need, but when it’s chilly and you’re comfortably wearing short sleeves, people ask questions. “I don’t know.”

He kisses Craig quickly. “But I do know I’ve got to leave. Will you wait for me?”

Craig pulls him close and kisses him deeper. “You’re not a murderer, Tweek. You’re everything nicer and purer and better than I have ever been. I just have to trust you’ll do the right thing in the end.” He buries his face in Tweek’s hair. “You know I’ll wait for you as long as it takes for you to find yourself.”

Tweek blinks back tears. “Take care of Tucker for me, okay? I can’t be a father to him like this.”

He turns to leave, and Craig watches him close the door.

Craig stands there for a little while, unable to move, caught in the inertia.

___________________________________________________________________________

“Come on,” Bebe says, looking at Token over her wineglass. “If anyone can talk sense into Clyde, it’s you.”

Token looks at her with great uncertainty. “He told me I ‘committed a crime against nature’.”

“What a fucking drama queen.” Bebe rolls her eyes. “God, I love the man, but he’s too much sometimes.”

Token sighs dejectedly into his soup. “What’re he and Jimmy doing tonight?”

“Hm, well, I told Jimmy it had to be something fun and light-hearted, so he’s taking him to one of his comic buddy’s shows.” Bebe tapped the table for emphasis, proud of herself. Bebe Stevens, #1 girlfriend.

Honestly, maybe she should have a talk show where she fixes people’s love lives. It’d beat interviewing drunk people at the local festivals.

Her phone buzzes in her designer purse. “Oh, excuse me, Token. I’m sure it’s Clyde asking me where his nice shirt is.”

It isn’t. It’s Jimmy.

“Uh, hey, Jimmy, what’s up?”

“U-uh, Bebe, you might wa-want to come home.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

“It’s really nice of you to spend time with me. Isn’t Wendy upset, though?” Kyle asks, pricking the tip of his finger.

Stan always has to look away when he checks his blood sugar. “No, dude, she’s still working full time. Woman never stops. She’s always been like that.” This is completely true, but Stan makes sure not to mention the fight they had the night before. Or the fact his head still pounds from his hangover. “Do you remember when you ran against each other for class president in high school?”

Kyle looks distant for a second before grinning. “I think I do. I passed out, didn’t I?”

“You did. You tried so hard, man, that you literally passed out during a debate. Craig was your VP, and he just sat there and laughed, so I had to run up on stage and help you up.” Stan laughs. “I was so worried, but looking back, it’s pretty fucking funny. Wendy won, by the way.”

Stan looks up, and his eyes meet Kyle’s. They’re on the couch, close enough their arms are touching, which is not a big deal after being best friends for twenty years, Stan tells himself. He’s suddenly aware of how loud the Simpsons are blaring on the TV.

“So you’ve always been this way?”

“What way?”

“Taking care of people all the time,” Kyle says, putting down his meter on the coffee table. Stan notices his hands still shake.

“Well… I don’t know, dude. You’re more motherly yourself. I’ve always been more concerned with animals. You know, protect the whales and shit.”

“So you’re only like this with me then?”

Stan is taken aback by the question, and he freezes, blushing. “Um, well, we’re best friends. Like brothers.”

“Brothers,” Kyle says simply, like it rings a bell. “Does Ike hate me?”

“What? Of course not.”

“Well, I noticed looking through my phone, we didn’t really talk much. And what we did talk about were things like … what to get mom for her birthday.”

Stan sighs, quickly thinking of the right way to phrase this. “When you and Ike were kids, you overreacted to a TV show, and kickstarted this thing against Canada and… well, it ended badly. But then, no offense, you kind of played the victim, so Ike was pretty mad at you. He eventually got over it, but then-”, Stan pauses, thinking some more, “- when we were in college, he decided he wanted to live up there with his biological grandparents for a little while instead of going to high school in South Park  - just because he wanted a different experience - and you freaked out.”

Kyle stares at him. “Freaked out?”

“Yeah. You basically said he was an ungrateful brat, and that you couldn’t believe he’d turn his back on the family. Thing is, your parents were cool with it. They thought it’d be good for him.”

Kyle winces. “Sheesh. Am I really that awful?”

Stan laughs. “No, dude. You just really care about him, and the fact he’s adopted has always been really touchy subject for you. You do tend to overreact and kind of uh, play the victim sometimes.”

Kyle’s face falls, and Stan thinks his heart may break.

“Listen, dude, don’t worry about it. I’m super fucking negative, selfish, and I make bad decisions and drag other people into them. And honestly, sometimes, I think I’m really boring.”

Kyle shakes his head. “I think selfish is the last thing you are.”

Stan bites his bottom lip. He reaches to turn the TV down, anything really, to give him a second to breathe.

“Kyle, I’ve kissed you twice, and then told Wendy and Kenny you were the one who initiated it, and you never got mad at me, not even once. And then the night before my wedding, I got really drunk, cried in your lap, and then tried to fuck you.” It comes out in a rush, but Stan feels this really weird urge to prove Kyle wrong.

“I know.”

“You.. know?”

“Heidi told me."

“That bitch,” Stan says before he can stop himself.

“It’s okay,” Kyle laughs. “It doesn’t change anything. I… still kept hanging around you, so it had to be something I wanted deep down, too.”

Stan doesn’t know whether to cry or laugh.

“By the way,” Kyle says, his face getting serious, “Heidi seems nice, but I have a weird feeling around her. Are we as close as she says we are?”

Stan sits there and looks down at his hands. “You were dating before you hit your head. That’s all I know.”

“You’re a bad liar, Stan Marsh.”

Stan looks up at him, and his heart quickens. Even recuperating, there’s a fire to Kyle Stan could never match.

It’s like it was meant to be.

Stan feels the weight of Kyle straddling him before he can bring himself to look up.. When he finally finds the courage, Kyle kisses him. Stan is pretty sure he sees fireworks underneath his eyelids when Kyle nips at his bottom lip and their tongues crash together.

Stan flips him over on his back and pins him to the couch, managing not to break the kiss.

Kyle digs his fingers into Stan’s hair and moans.

Stan never wants this to end, never wants to wake up from this dream.

“What the fuck?”

They never noticed Ike had come home.

He crosses his arms, and the look Ike gives Stan makes him hop off of Kyle. “Ike, I can explain.”

“Oh, yeah, you can. You know he’s still recovering, right?” Ike’s voice is full of the cold fury he’s known for, and Stan is at a loss for words.

One part of him wants to tell him to mind his own god damn business, but the other part realizes it looks like Stan was taking advantage of his currently-invalid brother.

He opens his mouth, whether to apologize or argue, when his phone rings on the table. It’s Wendy.

It could be for a myriad of reasons, but something inside of Stan tells him why she’s calling. He stands up, grabbing his stuff.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m uh, having a baby,” he says as he ducks out, avoiding Ike’s icy glare.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot thickens like gravy. 
> 
> I can't think of what to name Stan's daughter. RN i just have "----" in place of her name.
> 
> Also, I have no idea why it insists on posting the note I wrote on the first chapter that didn't show up, but here it is beneath this, I guess.


	3. The fiercest anger of all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a Tumblr that I do things on - ask me anything, and I'll write something if you ask for it. 
> 
> It's mediocrefanfics.
> 
> I love the thought of Timmy just being so fucking done with this bullshit.
> 
> Seriously, tho, if you enjoyed this let me know, so I know I'm going in the right direction.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

_"Stronger than lover's love is lover's hate. Incurable in each, the wounds they make."_

_- **Euripides**_

 

Stan’s life might be a mess, but the second he looks into his daughter’s eyes, every breath he has ever and will ever take is worth it.

It’s the magical moment his parents’ told him it would be. He sits on the edge of the bed and admires how his wife is still so well put together, even after having another human being pulled out of her.

“She’s perfect.” Stan is crying, and he can’t believe he’s being this cliche. “You did perfect.”

“Well, I had help.” Wendy smiles. The look she’s giving Stan is softer than any she’s given him lately, and he can’t blame her. “So, I guess it’s the final minute to decide.”

Stan looks at the baby’s hospital bracelet and remembers. _Baby Marsh_. Leave it to Wendy to get right down to business.

“That’s right! Shit, dude, - I mean, shoot, dude, what do you think?”

“It’s a baby, Stan, you can say shit,” Wendy laughs. “What do I think? Why do I have to be the one to decide?”

“You shoot down all my ideas!” Stan says, a little too loudly. The baby starts to coo, and he hands her to Wendy to breastfeed.

“Okay, but Stan, really? Ash? Is she going to catch them all or something?”

“You’re the one that wants her to have a more masculine name!”

“It’s not that it has to be masculine. Have you ever tried to break into the business world with a name like ‘Wendy’? It’s not fair, but it’d be a great middle finger to the patriarchy if we named her something… untraditional for a girl.”

Stan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay, okay, let me think.” He sighs and looks up at the hospital room’s TV. It’s covered in dust. “You know, they really could clean better in here. Is, is that a fucking spider? Wendy, let’s go to another hospital next time, seriously.”

“You’ve already decided there’s going to be a next time?”

Stan watches the little spider repel itself down the TV, weaving its web.

“Charlotte,” he says, suddenly.

“Charlotte?” Wendy raises her eyebrows, adjusting the baby to get a better angle to suck. “Like, Charlotte’s Web? Did you just get inspiration for our daughter’s name from a dirty hospital room?”

“Okay, but hear me out - we can call her Charlie.”

Wendy pauses for a second, and smiles. “That’s perfect, Stan.”

Stan leans back carefully into the hospital bed with her, minding any tubes and monitors. When he leans his head on his wife’s shoulder and watches her feed Charlie, his heart twists when he remembers what happened mere hours go.

He makes a vow to himself, and even though the idea of it burns its way down his throat and into his heart, Stan knows what he has to do.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clyde’s voicemail beeps and Bebe takes a deep breath before unleashing hell’s fury.

“A note, Clyde? A note? You can’t be serious. _‘I’m sorry, Bebe, but I can’t let evil like this continue.’_ “ She crumples the note in her hand and throws it on the ground. “I think the worst part is you don’t give a fuck he’s going after our other friends, it’s that you’re so… ableist?” She looks at Jimmy and Token. “Is that the word?”

They shrug.

“Don’t bother coming home!” Bebe screeches before throwing her phone across the room. Token winces at the loud bang it makes as it hits the wall.

“We’ve got to call Timmy. We need his help,” Token says, hurriedly. He picks up Bebe’s phone and hands it to her. The screen is cracked.

“Fine,” Bebe huffs, reluctant to admit she’s more terrified of what could happen to Clyde than angry at him. She calls Timmy. “It’s Clyde, he’s gone to kill Tweek.” There’s a pause as Timmy answers, and Token watches Bebe slump on the couch.

“Listen, Tim, i’d be done with all this drama, too, but unless you want to lose your entire legion, you’ve got to help us. Shit is going to hit the fan so hard.” Another pause. “Well, do you know where they are? Karen and Ike won’t tell anyone.” Token can faintly hear the monotone of Timmy’s vocalizer he uses for phone calls.

“Of course you do. Come on, Timmy, help us out?” He answers, and Bebe’s face relaxes. “Seriously, Tim, my first born - gonna name them after you.” She hangs up, and lets out a long sigh that turns into a groan.

Bebe suddenly stands up with resolution, even though Token can’t help but notice she’s looking more and more worn out as time goes on.

Despite this, she flashes them her best mega watt smile. “Grab your passports, boys!”

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Honestly, at this point, Cartman doesn’t care. He’s sure he can take on Tweek, but he’s tired of all this bullshit.

_“You’re afraid_ ,” Timmy says.

“That’s bullshit. I’m not afraid of him. He should be afraid of me.” Cartman laughs thinly.

_“And you secretly feel guilty.”_

“Shut up.”

_“Are you going to take my offer or not?”_

The idea of hiding in his lair is more comforting to Cartman than a cabin in the woods. Besides, he think he might kill Butters before Tweek does if he’s locked up in the wilderness with him.

“You and Wendy reinforced this place, right? He’s not getting in.”

_“You have to leave sometime.”_

“Tweek will get what’s coming for him.” Cartman’s voice gets quiet. “I’ve seen Kenny’s power. How dark it is, how far it can stretch. Tweek doesn’t stand a chance.”

______________________________________________

Clyde is well aware he’s not the brightest, but he knows he has gumption and bravery, which he holds with pride.

Except for right now. Gumption and bravery are getting him nowhere.

Clyde sits on the plane, chewing gum, warding off the ear-popping he hates with a passion. It occurs to him briefly his presence on this plane could cause a worldwide plague if he wanted it to, but the thought only makes him shrug.

Clyde is a good guy. Misguided at times, but dedicated to heroism. If he wanted to go to the dark side, he could bring the world to its knees, but he never will.

He forces himself to refocus on the map of Hawaii he has pulled up. He’s never been good with data or strategy or maps or any of this really. This has always been something he pushes on Craig.

The thought of Craig makes Clyde look away from his phone and out the window. Endless blue. He’s always been jealous of Kyle for being able to fly, even though Kyle always reminds him the oxygen is too thin or something at a certain point for him to get that high.

Clyde can’t help but wonder if Craig will forgive him. He’s his best friend, his bro. He was his best man at his wedding, and now he’s on his way to kill his husband.

_Kill?_ Clyde thinks. _Is that what I’m going to do?_

Will Bebe ever marry him after this? Or will she think he's a monster? Clyde tells himself either way he's protecting her, but the sick feeling he has in his stomach still remains at the thought of her leaving him. 

Clyde sighs and leans his head back, putting in his headphones. Closing his eyes, he reminds himself he only has a couple more hours to decide.

___________________________________________________

“Stupid,” Tweek growls at himself.

The jungle forest of Hilo stretches out before him. The scene is breathtaking, but Tweek is too occupied to notice. He turns from the cliff and bounds his way back to the empty house.

It’s too fucking hot here, he thinks. He kicks down the door and starts to go through drawers and cabinets.

He was stupid to assume Butters would hide at his house he keeps in Hawaii. Tweek is well aware Cartman has bunkered himself down in his lair like the rodent he is, but he’s decided to go after Butters and Kenny for the sheer fact he feels like there’s more satisfaction in it. He’ll smoke out Cartman when he’s done with them, but he imagines it’ll be quick and pointless.

Tweek picks up a vase and launches it at a window with a scream. He catches his reflection in a mirror hanging on the wall.

Tweek’s always been good-looking. He’s a warm person more or less, but has a cold beauty about him that’s made him look a little haughty over the years compared to the “heroin chic” (god, he’s always hated that term) vibe he had when he was younger.

But right now he feels like he can barely recognize himself.

He shakes the feeling off, chalking it up to all of the recent events he’s seeking revenge for. It spurs him on, and with a fervor, he starts searching the house again.

_There’s got to be a clue here_ , Tweek thinks. He can’t help but admire the antique furniture adorning the house. Villainy must have paid well.

He stops at the bookcase and starts pulling books out, chucking them on the floor. Art theory books, romance novels…. Pretty standard Butters fare. Then he lands on a section and carefully removes one.

“Bingo,” he breathes.

It’s one of Ike’s books - some sort of spy novel or something, Tweek doesn’t know, Craig read it and said it was pretty good - and he flips it over to read the short paragraph on the back jacket.

**_Ike Broflovski blah blah blah attended the University of blah blah_ **

_Come on_ , Tweek thinks. _Something_.

**_… enjoys nature at his cabin on the Heliope Peninsula in British Columbia._ **

Tweek doesn’t know how he could be this stupid. Why would Craig be texting Ike of all people unless Ike is involved in hiding them?

He feels elated, but in a twisted way that he’s never felt before when he senses someone watching him.

Tweek turns around and sighs. “Don’t get in my way, Clyde. I don’t have an issue with you.”

Clyde is in the doorway, and Tweek feels his skin prickle with the energy between them.

“I can’t let you go on. Look what you’ve already turned into,” Clyde says, with uncharacteristic disgust.

“You are literally disease personified, you freak,” Tweek hisses. He realizes with a jolt of fear they’re in the middle of a jungle forest.

Tweek hears the thousands of tiny legs before he sees them.

The spaces between his fingers zap with electricity as he gets in fighting stance. “Fine, be that way. But I’m not going to spare you, Clyde.”

“You better not,” Clyde smiles, flashing Tweek his now-protruding fangs.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Butters sinks down into the warm water and closes his eyes. He feels his hand glide down his stomach, across his abdomen in a way that makes his eyelids flutter, and then -

“Stop that,” he chides.

“ _Sorry_.” Butters can feel Kenny’s smirk.

“Ike called while you were gone. Tweek is on the hunt.” Butters sighs, watching the water ripple. “We’ve got to handle this now, Kenny.”

“ _Well, then, do I have some good news for you. I found Cthulhu’s lair._ ”

“What?” Butters leans up in alarm, causing some of the water to slosh out on the floor.

“ _And I think I know what's going on."_


	4. I'll swallow my pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a Tumblr, where I take requests, answer questions, post things, fun stuff - it's mediocrefanfics.
> 
> I love the Feldspar persona too much to not to include it a little :)
> 
> Sorry this took a little longer to upload. I'm really trying to edit more carefully, but I've been working solid overtime this week, and blah
> 
> Lemme know what you think, and thanks for reading <3

_I can never tell what you want_

_Even with time, you'll never learn to move on_

_I'm trying my best to lift you up, to repair_

_But when I stop, you never seem to stay there_

_And I'm holding on, I'm holding on_

_I'll wait until you're really gone_

_And try to find another way_

_But I cannot stay_

**_"Really Gone", Chvrches_ **

“She’s beautiful, Stan,” Kyle says quietly.

Stan walks him out the door, back to his house, which is not that far from his own. He feels a warmth on the breeze that seems too early, but he takes it as a sign that right now is the right time.

What does it matter in the grand scheme of things anyway?

Kyle looks up at Stan. His eyes are much clearer, and his shaking is barely noticeable. Stan catches himself staring back at him, and he marvels at how the same face he’s looked at for decades manages to always enrapture him every time.

“We should talk about it, Stan. There’s no point in acting like it never happened.” It’s cloudy, and the defused light makes his hair glow even redder. “For the record, I told Ike the truth. That I was the one that initiated it.” When Stan doesn’t answer, Kyle shakes his head. “He said he’s disappointed in me, but knows how much I -”

“Don’t,” Stan says, suddenly. He pulls a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket and lights it. “Don’t say it.”

“- how much I love you, Stan. I love you. I shouldn’t and it’s stupid, and the last thing I want in this world is to split you up from your family, but it doesn’t change the fact I’m in love with you.”

They stop walking.

“Why do you have to do this to me? Don’t you know this whole thing has been hard enough without you… tempting me?” Stan can feel his anger snap like a thread.

“Tempting you? Seriously? Like you haven’t spent the last fifteen years doing the same?” Kyle’s hot red temper is rearing its head, but Stan tells himself he couldn’t care less. At this point he thinks it’d be easier for them to hate each other.

“You know, if you had just told me the truth when we were kids, then it would’ve been different - we would’ve been different.”

The look Kyle gives him is so condescending Stan briefly fantasizes about shoving him. “Oh, I’m sorry, Stan. Forgive me for not knowing I could feel this way about you when we were children.”

“Oh, but what about when we were older, huh? High school, college? You know how painful it was when I walked in on you and your fucking professor - which, oh my god, Kyle, had a wife - and had to live with the knowledge I could’ve had you all along? But then you were too fucking scared to ruin our friendship, which just got fucked in the end anyway!” Stan’s starting to raise his voice. “But now I have a wife and a baby and none of this is fair, Kyle. None of this!”

“Oh boo hoo, nothing is ever fair for Stan Marsh. How do you think I feel? I’m the one who goes to bed alone at night! I had to stand there and watch you marry someone else and act like I was happy when all I wanted to do was scream!” Kyle’s eyes burn, and he closes them just in case his powers are about to go haywire.

Stan feels like he’s just been punched in the stomach. Maybe it would’ve been better in the end if they had just stopped being friends way before this.

In his best attempt at being emotionless, he clears his throat. “I … We have to work together, okay? And… I still want you to be my kid’s godfather. If anything ever happens to me and Wendy, Charlie is yours, okay? Promise me this.” He tilts Kyle’s chin up, forcing him to look at Stan.

“I promise,” he swallows, and Kyle feels this weird nagging inside. He’s heartbroken, but it’s another weird feeling he’s vaguely familiar with.

“But we can’t be friends anymore, Kyle. It isn’t healthy for either one of us.” Stan pulls Kyle close to him, partly because he knows it’ll be the last time he can, and partly to hide the tears that threaten to spill. “I need you to promise me something else.”

“What?” Kyle chokes. He knows he’s starting to ugly cry, so he rips his face from Stan’s grip and looks away.

“Promise me you know that I really do love you.”

Kyle swallows hard and nods.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_Kenny spends a great deal of time doing two things in the absence of his real body. Hiding from Butters how terrified he is that he’ll will die because of him and searching the dimensions for some sort of reprieve to this situation._

_Dimension-hopping is a lot like making your way through a shitty carnival haunted house. It’s dark and disorienting and spooky things lurk around corners, but in the end, it’s never as threatening as you build it up to be yourself._

_And Kenny, being the clever immortal is, knows that as above, so below, and all that jazz, so he figures if he’s tied to Cthulhu with some string of fate, then that means Cthulhu is tied to him._

_And he’s right._

_Kenny can’t sense Cthulhu in his lair, so he snoops around it with abandon. It’s full of treasure, made of gold and other things Kenny hasn’t seen before. There’s a throne made of jade, and he briefly wonders where exactly it is Cthulhu does his bathroom business._

_There’s rooms - more like caverns, really - that branch off from the main room, and Kenny goes with the one he feels the weirdest energy from._

_The walls and ceiling are stone, glittering with some sort of green gems, and it’s empty, except for a full mirror. It’s a little taller and wider than Kenny, and whatever it’s made of is tarnished. The same odd runes are engraved in its borders, and it sends chills up Kenny’s spine._

_He reaches out carefully, pressing his fingers against the glass. He gasps when the reflection changes._

_It’s Tweek, suspended in dark energy. His eyes are black, wide and empty. He’s pale - paler than usual - and his hair floats around him like a halo. He’s nude, but the smoky whisps cover most of his body, draining him of his life force and replacing it with its own._

_The image changes, and this time it’s Clyde. He’s much less paler, and Kenny thinks he might be able to see his pupils somewhere in the darkness that’s invaded his eyes._

_Kenny strikes a fist at the mirror, but only succeeds in splitting his knuckles. He stares hopelessly as the reflection changes back and forth, showing his friends’ souls trapped in its frame._

_And then Kenny feels the hair raise up on his arms and his stomach drop. He can sense Cthulhu is back._

_“Keep fighting him, you guys,” he whispers before vanishing into his own thin smoke._

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clyde feels every nerve in his body burn and spasm, and he fights it with all the energy he has. He knows if he doesn’t, Tweek’s attack will stop his heart and fry his insides.

He extends what he likes to call his feelers - really, it’s the invisible channels he uses to suck others’ energy up into his own body - and wraps them around Tweek. It works and drains him enough to make him stop.

“I’m impressed,” Tweek pants, “that you still have fight in you after that.”

“You’re really not playing around, are you? How do you think Craig will feel after he finds out you’re trying to take out his best friend?” Clyde snaps.

“Don’t you talk about him! You’re the one going after me!” Tweek says, and it reminds Clyde of how whiny he was when they were kids.

Clyde yelps as a couple of razor sharp icicles pierce his chest. Despite his drain of Tweek’s energy, Tweek is still finding it somewhere, and Clyde realizes he has to figure something out before this fight really is over.

Trying to ignore the panic he feels as the blood drips down his torso and blooms across his shirt, Clyde lets out that imperceptible noise in the back of his throat that draws bugs to do his will - but nothing happens.

He looks at Tweek, wide-eyed. “What happened to my powers?”

Tweek slowly walks to him, with an exaggerated form of his felinity. His face doesn’t look quite right, and Clyde is terrified.

“Poor Clyde,” Tweek hisses. “So scared of death.”

“No, Tweek, don’t.” Clyde falls to the ground, and he fights the urge to tear the icicles out of himself. Clyde is pretty sure this is the end for him, and his thoughts are filled with sunny, blonde curls and curvy hips and light-hearted laughs. He thinks about his father, aging and alone. “I’m not ready to go yet.”

Tweek laughs in a way Clyde has never heard him laugh before. “Mmm… too bad.”

“Craig,” Clyde gasps, desperately. “What about Craig?”

“Craig has spilt plenty of blood by his own hands,” Tweek says, and Clyde fights the urge to scoff at the archaic form of words.

“You’ve lost your mind. You don’t see Craig like that.” Clyde feels the last of his strength slip. He falls on the floor backwards.

Tweek straddles him, and Clyde is repulsed by the sudden intimacy between him and this twisted imitation of Tweek. Tweek forms a blade out of ice and with both hands raises it up.

Clyde closes his eyes, waiting for the impact of the blade into his gut. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

The stab never comes, though.

He hesitantly opens his eyes. Tweek has lowered the knife. “What did you say?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I called you a freak, and I’m sorry I went after you. In the end,” Clyde sighs, ”I guess you’re just defending yourself.”

Tweek is silent.

“I mean, I couldn’t let you kill our friends, but what I said was uncalled for.”

Tweek’s eyes are clearer now.

“I’m glad you’re alive, Tweek.”

Clyde screams, writhing from the electricity until the lights in his world go out.

………………………............................................................................................................................................................................

Tweek gets up. His body aches and screams at him to finish the job. Something in his head  is telling him over and over if he kills Clyde, the pain will stop and he’ll gain Clyde’s humanity, like some sort of sick mantra.

Tweek’s no stranger to repetitive thoughts, but this is a hundred times worse.

He tries to replace it with memories. Tweek thinks of the time Clyde helped him throw Craig a surprise party, Clyde giving Tweek a thumbs up behind Craig’s back at the altar, that goofy grin, the way he just easily accepted Tweek and Craig as gay without a word when they were kids.

The sweet memories are like a warm flame in his heart, and he holds onto it as he forces himself to grab his bag off the table, and walk out the door. Refusing to look back at Clyde’s spread body on the floor, he sends Bebe a text with shaking hands.

As he makes his way back mainland, the flame snuffs out, though, and the creeping coldness of revenge seeps 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Super doesn’t even want to be here, but T asked him and Captain to cover for them while they go save Clyde and the others. He’d rather be chasing away his thoughts about Tweek by teaching his son the planet names and watching Little Einsteins, and then burying his face in his little sister’s shoulder while he cries after Tucker has been put to bed and he drinks a fifth of vodka.

It’s weird how comforting a routine can be after a few days, even if it’s one born of misery.

They watch two men in suits walk out of an abandoned factory to a black van. The back is filled with boxes of what Super knows are pills. Which he couldn’t care less about - he’s not in the business of judging other people’s poison - but these particular pills are made with a combination of harmful chemicals to lower the cost of production.

And, like what happened in California a couple of weeks ago, if say, a group of unassuming college party animals take a couple before hitting the clubs and then are found in an alleyway having eaten each other’s faces off, then he feels like maybe he should intervene.

He throws his cigarette down and grinds it out with his heel. “Are you ready?” he drawls.

Captain nods.

Super makes his way shiftily through the dark and into the factory, whereas Captain just clods his way in. “Get down,” he hisses. Super isn’t just a strongman, he’s also stealthy and quick. Back in his wilder days, he even moonlit as a minor thief. Not any crime bad enough for an awkward run in with his hero co-workers, but it procured enough pretty things for Tweek from time to time.

The inside is shadowy, lit by flickering lights and filled with towering boxes. It’s like they want Super to whoop their ass.

They can hear a group of people in the middle of the wide room somewhere, and he motions to Captain to stay on this side and move closer.

He then darts to the other end, and together they make their way carefully towards the noise.

A man in a little bit of a nicer suit than the others opens a pill in his palm and rubs it in his gum. “Oh, fuck,” he says as he spit onto the floor. “What is this shit cut with?”

His lackey answers unintelligibly and the men laugh.

“Sorry to break up this party,” Super drones, coming out from the shadows. The men drop the boxes and pull out their guns predictably.

Super laughs, dodging their bullets. A criminal goes flying past him with a yell and Super knows Captain has already managed to take one out.

Super isn’t looking to beat up any of these low-level transport men, though. He’s searching for the man in the nice suit, planning on cutting the snake off by the head.

“Come on, this isn’t a fucking game of hide and seek,” Super says, knocking down tower after tower of boxes.

He hears a pathetic whimper behind one. “Found you,” he says, and the man crawls backwards up against the wall while shakily pointing a gun at him.

Super kicks it out of his hand. By the man’s scream he knows he probably broke his hands doing that, and he smiles a little wickedly. Super’s always been a sucker for violence.

“Please, please,” the man begs.

Super thinks about the kids, cannibals against their wills. Most of them were dead when they cops finally found them, but one survived. He hears the survivor is locked up in a mental asylum and probably will be for the rest of their life.

He cracks his knuckles, wanting to feel the crack of the man’s spine in his grip.

“ _Come on, Super_ ,” he hears Wonder say in his mind. “ _Don’t do this. You’ll regret it.”_

He can feel a ghost of the memory of Wonder’s thin hand around his wrist pulling him back.

_“Let the cops handle him.”_

_“Calm down, Super. Let’s go home.”_

Whenever Tweek would intervene like this, he’d immediately step down. Tweek’s sweet voice is always a lullaby amongst the angry turmoil inside of Craig.

Super sighs, and he hears the distant sirens. The man isn’t going anywhere with his hands broken like this, angled at weird directions.

Super realizes it’s his turn to be Tweek’s voice of reason. Trusting him is good and all, but Craig wants to be there to help him make the right decisions, just like Tweek has always been for him.

Super meets up with Captain. He’s tied up all of the criminals, and they go to talk to the cops.

“Did you find the head?” Captain asks.

Super nods.

“Is he…?

“Dead? No.”

Super is silent, and Captain stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “I know everyone is caught up in this mess, but, Super, if you need to go to Canada, I can cover here.”

Super smiles for the first time in awhile. “Thanks, Captain.”

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Heidi can’t help but think Kyle looks like a petulant child. He sits covered up on the couch, the blanket tangled up around his crossed legs and his arms crossed against his chest.

Kyle’s eyes are red and puffy, and he refuses to look at her.

Despite her initial annoyance, though, she feels really bad for him - Heidi could’ve blackmailed Stan into never seeing Kyle again, but she didn’t because she knows how much that would’ve killed Kyle.

“I’m really sorry, Ky,” she says, rubbing his thigh in little circles comfortingly. “But don’t you think you’re letting this bother you too much?”

She hears Ike turn off the faucet in the kitchen suddenly.

The look Kyle gives her is full of fire and silences her.

“You don’t know what he means to me,” he says crossly, narrowing his eyes.

Heidi feels her defenses rise. “But don’t you think you’re being a little selfish? He can finally focus on his family. Besides, Kyle, you kind of, I don’t know, already have a girlfriend?” She says the last part bitterly, irritated that she’s having to remind him of this.

“I have a girlfriend?” Kyle is starting to raise his voice, and Heidi is vaguely aware of Ike hovering in the background. “I don’t seem to have agreed to having a girlfriend.”

Heidi gets up. “What?! I’ve told you over and over we talked about it before you fell! Which, by the way, doesn’t make complete sense. You fell hard enough down stairs to fuck up your skull but you're already home and recovering?"

“Well, I don’t remember this. Something is off about you, Heidi Turner.”

“Stan, Stan, Stan. That’s all you fucking ever care about.” Heidi knows she sounds like one of her sixth graders, but she doesn’t care. There’s something in her that’s pulsating her forward, feeding the anger in her heart.

“Because I’m in love with him!” Kyle exclaims, covering his mouth immediately afterwards.

Ike clears his throat.

Heidi is silent, before grabbing her purse and keys. “Well,” she says quietly, “then I don’t want to get in the way.” She stops at the front door and looks back. “Hell, maybe i can help clear a path for you.”

She slams the door behind her.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Kyle and Craig have never been particularly close. Craig has always been aware he greenlit Kyle and Tweek’s fling, but by nature he’s territorial, and it’s never escaped him Kyle still carries a torch for his husband.

And ever since the incident with the photo and Craig wrecking his furniture, Kyle hasn’t been the most fond of him either.

So Ike is more than amused as he watches the two heartbroken men stiffly talk on the couch, neither one willing to give away willingly the extent of their emotional turmoil, as he sits on the floor and builds a block tower with Tucker.

Kyle has been a mess since Stan ended their friendship. While he’s still pretty bedridden from his injuries, he’s been less headstrong about getting up and moving around.

Ike tells him again and again this is probably for the best, but Kyle won’t listen, and he’s slowly watching his brother break apart.

Craig is lowly explaining to Kyle how he let his husband leave, on the sheer hope Tweek will come to his senses, and how he thinks they both should go up to Canada to talk to him before he can kill Butters.

Ike immediately interferes on Kyle’s behalf.

“Are you crazy? He’s still not even supposed to be alone for extended periods of time.”

Craig glares at him. “Well, obviously I’m going up there, too.”

Ike isn’t the biggest fan of Craig or his smart mouth. “Oh yeah, that’s comforting.”

“Everyone listens to Kyle - for some reason - and he’s the most neutral party. It makes fucking sense.”

Before Ike can tell him to fuck off, Kyle interrupts.

“Okay, I’ll go.”

Ike and Craig stare at him.

Kyle shrugs. “Craig will take good care of me. Won’t you?”

Craig raises his eyebrows, before straightening his face and nodding. “Yeah… of course.”

“Oh no, no, no, if he’s going, I’m going. It’s my fucking cabin, anyway. I don’t want you assholes tearing it down.”

Tucker knocks down the block tower and raises his arms triumphantly.

“Tucker gets it,” Ike laughs.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_153 Halau Way_

Bebe shows it to Timmy on the way to the airport, tears in her eyes.

“Do you think he’s…”

 _“No,”_ Timmy says. _“I’d know. I think we should get to him as soon as possible, though.”_

Bebe nods numbly.

 _“Hey, don’t worry. Clyde is tougher than he acts. His ability to absorb energy will keep him stable until we get there.”_ Timmy stops himself short of saying ‘hopefully’.

Token looks back from the driver’s seat. “So, we’re, uh, not going to Canada?”

“It looks like we’re going to Hawaii instead.”

“Th- this isn’t a good idea, guys. Tweek is prob- probably headed towards Canada already,” Jimmy says. Token hums in agreement.

“We can’t just leave Clyde there!” Bebe shoots Jimmy a look.

“Th-that’s not what I’m saying. Why don’t Be-Bebe and Token go to Hawaii, and Tim and I will go to Canada?”

 _“That’s a good idea,_ ” Timmy agrees.

Bebe looks out the window as they pull into the long-term parking lot. She watches a plane above them, so close she can see the metal underbelly.

Bebe closes her eyes. _Just hold on for a little longer, baby._


	5. I'm limited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a Tumblr - it's mediocrefanfics.
> 
> Feel free to make requests and talk and etc.
> 
> We're getting near the end. 
> 
> There's a warning, semi-spoiler about the next couple of chapters at the end.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!!!

 

_I’ve heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason_

_Bringing something we must learn_

_And we are led to those who help us most to grow_

- _"For Good", **Wicked** , Stephen Schwartz_

Stan knows something is up as soon as he walks through the door. Wendy is on the couch sniffling, her face red and puffy. The TV is off, the house is completely still, and there's something dim and empty about it that unsettles Stan. 

“Hey, honey, where’s Charlie?”

“At my mom’s,” Wendy says shortly.

“Oh-h,” Stan breathes. He has a dread in his core that tells him he already knows why she’s upset, but he foolishly, desperately holds onto hope. “What’s wrong, Wen?”

She suddenly stands up, fists balled in fury. “Heidi told me! Told me everything!”

Stan swallows as he feels the color drain out of his face. His eyes decide to study the hardwood underneath him, the patterns shifting in and out of focus. “Wendy, I don’t know what to say. I’m so, so sorry…” He steps forward to reach out for her and winces when she backs up.

“You fucking asshole,” she spits. “You know what’s worse? I’ve always known you’ve felt that way about him, and I’ve always been nothing but supportive of you and Kyle’s friendship. You could’ve talked about-” she waves her hands “- all of this and we could’ve worked together on figuring out how to work on our marriage!”

“I was just really scared,” Stan says, his voice wavering. His leans against the wall and slides down it.

“Scared? _Scared_? No, you’re selfish. You couldn’t let Kyle be happy without you, you couldn’t man up for your daughter, you couldn’t keep your promise to me! You’re selfish, Stan Marsh, selfish, selfish, selfish…” Wendy breaks down and sits back on the couch. “Why did you not ever tell me about the night before we got married?”

Suddenly Stan’s shock and sadness are tinted with anger. “What was I supposed to tell you? I was having cold feet because I’m in love with my best friend? But I married _you_ , Wendy. I had a baby with _you_. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

Wendy shakes her head. “No. No. Because you just went with the convenient choice.”

Stan throws his hands in the air. “This was the most convenient choice?”

The look Wendy gives him shuts him up. He can't take his eyes off his wife. She had long ago cut her long, black hair into a much shorter bob, and her frame is still thin and light despite the puffiness of having a baby only a few weeks earlier. She’s his Wendy, the same Wendy he’s always loved. Still the same rosy cheeks, the quick, dark eyes. But he’s never seen her like this before, and it kills him he’s the one responsible.

“Listen, Wendy,” he says, struggling to get up, “I ended my friendship with Kyle last week. After what happened the other day, I just thought it was less temptation for the both of us.”

Wendy whips her head around at him. “What happened the other day?”

_Oh_ , Stan thinks, _so Heidi didn’t tell her that._

“Stan Marsh, what happened the other day?” she asks through gritted teeth. She gets up and gets closer to him. He feels himself shrink back from her.

“We kissed. Again. But he didn’t know any better, Wendy, he’s still…”

The slap makes a loud crack in the quiet house. “I have bent over backwards to make you happy. Through the unfaithfulness, through the drinking, through the fights… and this is how you thank me?”

Stan rubs the side of his face, silent. “I’ve said all I can,” he says finally.

“Well, we’re getting a divorce.” Wendy says this so curtly, so matter-of-fact it makes Stan’s head spin faster than it would have if she had screamed it in his face.

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Stan admits quietly. “You’re not going to pull a Tweek Tweak on me, are you? I deserve to see my child.”

“You do,” Wendy nods. She fixes her mascara in the hallway mirror. Her sheen of professionalism, of just-get-it-fucking-done is back on, like armor.

Stan stands there, feeling like a stranger in his own house. He takes a deep breath.

“Well, you can either go stay with someone, or you can sleep in the guest bedroom. Suits me just fine either way,” Wendy says, constantly fixing her mascara because the tears keep coming.

“I don’t believe that.” There’s a tinge of malice in Stan’s voice, but he straightens it. “I’ll stay here. Everyone else is dealing with that bullshit in Canada.”

Wendy doesn’t answer. She throws her makeup back in her purse, grabs it, and walks out.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Bebe buries her face in Clyde’s hair. It smells a burnt. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

Token’s hands and mind move a mile a second. He checks his pulse, his breathing, his skin. He points to the Lichtenburg figures tracing up Clyde’s arms. “He’s alive, but he got him good.”

Clyde’s eyes open slightly. The blood vessels are popped, and they look almost bloody. Bebe makes a slight whimpering noise. “How could he do this to him?”

Clyde opens his mouth to tell her it’s not really Tweek. Well, it is, but not _their_ Tweek - something has poisoned his mind like what happened to Kenny. But nothing comes out.

His body starts to spasm.

“Bebe! Get back!” Token barks.

Bebe does what she’s told and crawls backwards, watching in horror as Clyde has a seizure. “Oh, god,” she gasps.

“This is a common side effect of getting hit by such an electrical current,” Token says. “Stay calm.” Token pulls his phone out and calls for the ambulance.

Clyde’s seizure stops, and Bebe makes her way slowly back to him.

She uses her sleeve to wipe the blood off his mouth, and for a second, she thinks she sees his eyes focus on her before he drifts back off into the darkness.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“So what’s our game plan?” Butters asks, sitting in the same spot in the same field next to the same god damn pond watching the same cloud drift by. “At this point, buddy, I’m kinda ready for it.”

_“I know,”_ Kenny says, and Butters feels bad for complaining. _“I don’t know how to help Tweek. I mean, with me, it was simple. You just had to cut my physical bond.”_

Butters scoffs good-naturedly. “Gee, I don’t know if _simple_ is the word you’re looking for.”

Butters rolls his eyes, and he’s confused for a second, before he realizes it wasn’t of his on volition.

_“I think our first instinct should be to defend ourselves. Or more specifically, you. So when the time comes - you get back, okay? Just let me take over.”_ Kenny is using the same voice he uses with Karen, even though she and Butters have reminded him frequently she’s a grown woman.

“Absolutely not!” Butters sits up.

_“You do realize if he kills us, he doesn’t actually kill me, he kills you. That’s his fucking point, I think. I can only sit here and watch him murder you, and -”_

“Kenny, stop.” Butters is surprised to see tear drops fall on the grass. “It’s no good talking about it. You said yourself he’s possessed.”

_“That’s not the point. You’re in danger because of me. I’m supposed to be protecting you and look where we are now.”_ Kenny has fought these feelings so hard, scared to vocalize them, that they rush out now, overflowing into Butters.

Butters bites back a sob, a strange feeling when it’s not his grief, and it mixes with his sudden indignation. “Protecting me? Why would you think you need to protect me?”

_“Because I love you,”_ Kenny says quietly.

The words echo through his mind. Butters has waited years to hear those words from him, since the time Butters screamed it at him when they were 17 and Kenny was dying in front of him for the first time. Butters laughs, a happy, tinkling noise that chases away the sorrow a little bit. “Oh, Kenny, I love you, too. Finally, after all this time, you finally say it!” He lays back down with a thud.

_“You mean you didn’t know?”_

Butters shrugs. “You’ve never said it back. I just thought you liked the… you know.”

Kenny laughs damply, and Butters feels the tears stop.

“Anyway, Kenny, I don’t need protecting. I’m strong on my own. I want to be your equal, your partner,” Butters says softly, hoping it sounds comforting more than reprimanding.

_“I know, Butterscup. I just don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”_

“Don’t worry about that, Ken,” Butters hums lightly. “I have a feeling this will end better than we think.”

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Stan stares at the message on his phone. It glows a little too bright in the darkness that’s swallowed his room. He’s pulled in the curtains, shut out any light, buried himself under blankets, all in the pursuit of shutting out the world around him.

His wife is leaving him. He hasn’t seen his baby girl in two days, and while he knows that’s temporary, it just adds to the pain. He’s chased away his best friend and the man he loves. And his other friends are busy defusing this impending bomb on their hero group.

Stan doesn’t want to move. He doesn’t want to think. He doesn’t even want to breathe. So he’s more than annoyed when his phone dings loudly in the quiet.

When he sees the message, his heart quickens, though.

**_Ikey B._ **

_We’re waiting for a connecting flight in Calgary rn_

_But you should follow us_

_We heard about what happened from Craig’s cousin_

Stan takes a second to curse Red before replying.

_Kyle and I broke of our friendship so I don’t think he wants to talk to me_

**_Ikey B._ **

_Yeah, I’m aware… He’s been a weepy bitch_

_That’s harsh But you know what I mean_

Stan immediately shuts down the idea, but something in him so badly wants to chase after Kyle.

_I wouldn’t even know what to say to him_

**_Ikey B._ **

_That you’re sorry and you love him?_

_Idk dude it’s your romance_

Stan can picture it now. Kyle’s arms folded against his chest, his nose up in the air. _'Oh, now that your wife has left you, I’m good enough for you?’_ his imagined Kyle snaps.

Stan shakes his head at the tears that prick his eyes and puts his phone down. He doesn’t know whether to mourn his marriage or the loss of his best friend more. The hope in him has withered. He draws himself into a tight ball.

His phone starts to ring, and he sits up, alarmed. It’s some generic tone that came with the phone, but it’s one only assigned to Kyle.

Sure enough, the screen is lit up with a photo of Kyle a couple years ago, his arm slung around Stan, cheeks pressed together. Granted Kenny is on the other side, but he’s not as closely wrapped around them.

_I really am in love with him_ , Stan thinks.

He answers the phone, surprised to feel himself shaking. “H-hello?” It comes out as a croak, his voice raw from crying, cheap liquor, and unuse.

“Stan.” It feels so good to hear Kyle’s voice, even more so, hear him speak his name, and Stan’s emotions starts to slip. “I… heard about what happened with Wendy. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know Heidi was going to do that. And I know I’m the last person you want to hear from, but I … just hope you’re okay.”

Stan is silent. His shakes become heavier, and he brings his head to his knees. His tears come hard and fast, and he lets out a sob he’s pretty sure Kyle can hear.

“I’m sorry, Stan, I really am. This is the last thing I wanted to happen.”

Stan hears someone make an announcement over the intercom at the airport. “You have to go, right?” he sniffles.

Kyle is quiet for a second. “Yeah, I think so. We’re boarding soon.”

“Hey, thanks for calling me,” Stan says. He knows he wants to say so much more, but he doesn’t know how to say it.

“You’re welcome,” Kyle says curtly.

Neither one says goodbye. Stan realizes this might be his last chance.

“I’m coming to Canada.”

“What?!”

“To sweep you off your feet. … And also as back up for everyone. But more importantly to sweep you off your feet.” Stan jumps out of bed and immediately knocks down bottles.

Kyle laughs, but it’s full of joy, and it makes Stan feel like a real person again. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll be here, waiting for you.”

“I’ll see you soon, okay? I love you.” They’ve said those words between each other a million times but never before have they felt so wonderfully deep.

“I love you, too,” Kyle breathes.

He hears Ike cheer in the background and Craig dryily drone an “aww, cute”.

“Hey, keep those two in line, okay?”

“I’m trying,” Kyle laughs. “There’s lots of bickering.”

“I can only imagine. Okay, but seriously dude, I need to get my shit together if I’m going to make it in time.”

They hang up, and Stan practically rips his clothes off to hop in the shower. He pauses for a second to let the warm water run down his body. It washes away years of dirt.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Cartman throws his disguise in his red duffel bag, along with some socks.

His phone dings a couple of times.

_Hurry up, fat ass_

He rolls his eyes.

Really, he’s doing these people a favor. Instead of hiding like a sensible person, he’s literally going _to_ Tweek.

But, he figures, if Kyle can go in his condition, then it’d be an embarrassment not to show up.

Cartman hates to admit it, but he’s looking forward to being in a group again, even if he has a lot to make up for and is no longer a leader.

His phone rings. “I am coming, Sta-an,” Cartman whines.

He can’t help but smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \---- Spoiler ------  
> \-----------------  
> \-----------------
> 
> I put this as a warning because I know I personally like knowing about these things beforehand.
> 
> And I didn't want to put major character death as a warning on the whole story because that just spoils it. 
> 
> But yes, prepare yourself for a major character death.
> 
> \-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	6. You're too much to lose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \----------- WARNING ----------  
> So the amount of violence and sad things are a lot more intense in this chapter, so if that's something that bothers you, you can just read the next chapter when i post it, and you'll be able to understand what happened without all the bloodiness, if you wish. 
> 
> I also uploaded a collection of fluffly, feel-good one shots so that there's something a little happier to read after this lol 
> 
> I have a Tumblr - it's mediocrefanfics. 
> 
> I heard this song the other day, and it reminded me of the Style and the Stendy in this story, but now, after editing this Craig and Tweek section, it reminds me more of them - just with revenge instead of alcoholism, and reptilian strangers is less of a metaphor, and more of a... real element.
> 
> Also, i really dig the fan theory Kenny is actually the King in Yellow, so I decided to include that <3
> 
> Thanks for reading <3 I promise the next chapter will be much happier!!!

_All these pointless benders_

_With reptilian strangers_

_Oh my god you're so naive_

_You leave this world in a drunken heap_

_Who'll make the arrangements, baby, them or me?_

_**"Please Don't Die"** , Father John Misty_

 

 

Craig watches the wind blow out the cherry of his cigarette. He’s texted Tweek on the thin hope he’d agree to meet him here at this park in the little British Columbia town nearest to the cabin, but he doesn’t really believe Tweek will show up.

He’s probably like, sharpening a sword while staring intensely at a photo of Butters or whatever one does when they’re about to take revenge on someone.

He’s wrong, though. Tweek just got into the town himself, and he’s been lying on the cheap hotel bed, fighting with all his might the dark thoughts that encroach upon him every second. Tweek didn’t even think twice when he saw Craig’s message.

“You should really cut back. Your life insurance policy isn’t big enough yet to cover Tucker’s tuition,” comes a voice behind him. A familiar, popping voice, albeit huskier and unsteady.

Craig looks up and exhales. “Tweek.”

“Wow, you’re not even going to get me for that one?” Tweek says it with humor, but there’s no smile on his face. The bags under his eyes are so dark it gives him a weird supernatural look Craig doesn’t like. He’s got an aftershadow, strange for Tweek who’s usually obsessive about his shaving.

He sits on the bench next to Craig.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” Craig says, grabbing Tweek’s arms. “I just want this to be over.”

Tweek’s eyes widen at Craig’s desperation, but his face settles back into an impassive mask. “Me, too,” he says cryptically. “Why are you here? I thought you were trusting me to do the right thing.”

Craig leans his head back, releasing Tweek from his grip. “I almost killed someone the other day and didn’t.”

“Good,” Tweek says, wary of sounding like a hypocrite.

“I thought about all the times you stopped me,” Craig says. He rubs his eyes and wonders if Tweek can tell he’s been hitting the bottle pretty hard lately. “I’m always so annoyed at you at first, but then I wake up screaming and I realize how thankful for you I am.”

“So you’re going to stop me?” Tweek asks, his voice too flat for Craig to pick up on his emotion.

Craig shrugs. “No. I’ll be there, though, to make sure the others don’t go too far.”

“So the others are here?”

Craig tenses. He realizes he might be talking to the enemy even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

“Yeah, they are. But because they love you and Butters and Kenny… and Cartman.”

Tweek growls and the sound makes Craig tense. “I can’t fucking believe it.”

“Tweek, we’re doing this for you.” His eyes search Tweek’s face. It looks strange in the orange street lamp light, but it’s more than that. There’s a darkness to his features that’s never been there before. “Tweek, I’ve loved you for twenty years. I know something isn’t right.”

Tweek’s eyes finally meet his, and Craig is surprised to see the sadness in them.

“Whatever is in there,” Craig says, swallowing loudly, “We’re not going to let it hurt you. We’re gonna kick its ass.”

Tweek reaches out for his face and kisses him. Craig responds full-force, greedily. Tweek tastes a little stale, a little bloody.

He pulls away from a second but doesn’t let go of Craig’s face.

“I hurt Clyde. Really bad.” Tweek’s voice is high.

“I know, baby. He’s in the hospital. Bebe and Token got to him in time.”

Tweek doesn’t answer and rejoins their lips. His hands slide to the back of Craig’s neck. He starts to squeeze in an icy vice grip, and Craig gasps in pain.

“You really take advantage of the fact I won’t hurt you, don’t you?” Craig hisses.

Tweek looks at him sadly and lets go. He hurriedly stands up. “I’ve got to go, Craig. Before…. Before…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, and Craig watches his husband disappear into the night.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Stan stands in front of the hotel room door, double checking the number Kyle texted him. He drops his bag, and pauses, before knocking raptly.

He doesn’t know whether he’s going to pass out or what, but he supports himself on the doorframe. Maybe it’ll come off as casual and cool when Kyle answers the door.

It swings open. They stare at each other. Everything is the same. The same nose Kyle has always been so insecure about, the same weirdly tan skin for a redhead - his one defense against being labelled a “ginger” - the same pursed lips Stan has found himself obsessed with since he was thirteen. But at the same time it’s different, so, so different.

They both move in tandem, and their lips collide. Stan slams Kyle’s body against the door and moves his mouth to Kyle’s neck.

“Bed,” Kyle gasps. He screams when Stan sweeps him off his feet.

“Oh, calm down!  I told you this is what I was planning, man,” Stan laughs.

“I didn’t think you meant literally - oomph!” Stan plops Kyle on the bed.

He tackles him, and they keep kissing. Stan pulls away. “I’m an awful person,” he breathes.

“You’re not an awful person. You’ve just made the wrong decisions.”

“Oh thanks,” Stan laughs humorlessly, wrapping his arms around Kyle and pulling him into a sitting position. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he says, nuzzling his face in his hair.

His hands move to Kyle’s waist and begin to undo his pants.

Kyle grabs his hand quickly.

Stan immediately withdraws, his face red from the shame of perhaps moving Kyle to a phase he wasn’t ready for.

“I want this, too,” Kyle whispers, and he moves Stan’s hand strategically to a spot on his body that’s betraying how truly he’d love to be Stan’s right here and now. “But you’re only separated. You’re still a married man. And it sounds silly, but I’d rather wait until… everything is official.”

Stan sits back and sighs. “You’re too good for me, Kyle.” He strokes Kyle’s face, and Kyle shifts his head to kiss his hand. “I know this is weird circumstances, but Craig doesn’t think Tweek will strike until tomorrow, and it’s still early… And I haven’t eaten today yet….”

Kyle gives Stan a look and playfully shoves him. “So this is how the great stud of South Park asks people out, huh?”

“Shut up! But yeah, um, go on a date with me?” Stan is blushing, and Kyle is pretty sure it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

Kyle raises his eyebrows.

“Please?” Stan meeps.

“Oh, alright, if you insist.”

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Tweek knows Timmy is watching him, so it’s no surprise when everyone is there already.

He’s so tired of battling the demon in him, he’d be almost ready to let it win if it weren’t for the sheer force of love he has for Craig, his son, and his friends.

‘I’ve loved you for two decades.’ The words chase off the shadows, and in them Tweek can hear the echo of Tucker’s laugh.

Despite this, though, like some weird fever dream, he finds himself at a Spartan cabin surrounded by the Canadian woods. His friends stand in an arc, almost practiced, in front of the cabin, and their faces are unreadable. His eyes find Craig, who looks at him pleadingly.

The wind whips wildly as a storm front comes in, and Tweek smiles to himself. It’s like everything is aligning for him.

“Fucking finally,” Butters says, and Tweek becomes aware Kenny is the one doing all the talking. He stretches his chubby little body with his arms over his head. Tweek watches his body bend, and then retract, and feels a pang of jealousy.

When Tweek stretches now, he hears the whir of his mechanical parts.

He can feel his powers heat up. There’s something urging them on that’s so powerful it’s making the air around him vibrate.

_“Something is different. He’s stronger, a lot stronger,_ ” Timmy says.

“That’s because he’s possessed by Cthulhu. Hey, you tentacled dick, why don’t you come out and play instead of hiding in our friend!” Butters calls.

“What the fuck, dude?!” Craig snarls.

Tweek falls to his knees and tangles his fingers in his hair. He starts to scream, a horrific, animalistic noise.

Craig lurches forward to run to him.

“Hold him back!” Kenny orders, and Stan does as he’s told, quickly pointing one of his guns at Craig’s temple.

“Sorry, Craig, but you’ll rip my limbs off if I don’t do this,” Stan says quietly, the apology very much sincere. “Just trust Kenny, okay? He knows how to do this.”

Craig is all but growling. “If he dies, I will single handedly kill all you motherfuckers.”

Stan sighs. “Fair.”

Butters motions Kyle with his head towards Tweek. Kyle steps forward.

“Tweek, you have to let go. Just for a second, okay? I might not be able to dimension travel like Kenny, but I’m still a psychic, okay? I should be able to grab hold of you.” Kyle’s hair moves in the wind, but at a different tempo than the gusts. “Trust us.”

Tweek answers in a wail. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, gasping. Suddenly his body goes limp.

The wind dies down. Then there’s a crack of thunder so loud it makes everyone’s ears ring.

Tweek stands up, his laugh turning into Cthulhu’s cackle. His eyes are black.

“Take Kyle back to the cabin and protect him!” Kenny tells Timmy.

They slowly back up into the cabin, Kyle chanting something under his breath with his eyes wide and white. It’s too late, though. Lightning hits it, and it bursts in flames, the wood quickly incinerating.

“God damn it,” Ike says, armed to the teeth despite the others insistence he stay back in town.

“You think you can beat me, Hastur?” Tweek smiles, and it’s so grotesquely wide it almost takes up his face.

“Don’t fucking call me that. My name is Kenny McCormick,” Kenny roars. He tenses to strike but is interrupted by a bolt of lightning.

Everyone scatters in time, but the bolt is so hot it still painfully burns their skin.

“Since when can you summon things from the sky instead of your body?” Craig asks, both horrified and awed.

Cthulhu laughs. “I’ve already won. All I have to do is make sure this body dies and his soul is severed - simple since your psychic isn’t strong enough to multi-task, and then I’ll easily slip into his husband - who’s already threatened to kill all of you without my influence! And poor Hastur. All I have to do is kill the telekinetic, and that thin string that is your conscience that separates you from me-“ Tweek snaps his fingers, “- will break. That’s your biggest fear, right? Watching him or your sister die? This is what happens when you open your heart to mortals - you really should know better.”

Smoky tentacles pour out of Butters and reach out at breakneck speed to grab Tweek. He dodges him effortlessly.

“I’ve got him,” Cartman snarls, reaching out to swipe with his claws.

“Nope, nope,” Tweek teases in a imitiation of his real voice. He freezes Cartman’s metal claws, causing him to withdraw. With the kind of power he’s emitting, if Cartman’s claws come into contact with anything, they’ll shatter.

Jimmy comes from behind him, just to be caught in a net of electricity. He’s smart enough to pull back, but still gets floored from the shock. He crumples in a heap. “F-fuck,” he says, as the air around him sparks every so often.

Everyone can feel Tweek lock eyes on Kyle as the rain starts to pick up.

Ike fires, an excellent shot, but Tweek avoids each one effortlessly. Before Ike even senses it, he’s thrown painfully into the smoldering rubble of his cabin by a blast of packed snow.

Kyle winces for a second.

_“Don’t stop, Kyle. If you break your concentration, we’re all done for,”_ Timmy urges, trying to lend him his own power without getting caught off guard.

Tweek laughs evilly, and he extends an arm gracefully towards Kyle.

“No!” Stan charges in between them without thinking.

Tweek’s smile twists, and the clouds get darker, blocking any sunlight. The rain starts to fall in sheets, and Stan slips, sliding near Kyle.

Tweek moves his arm towards Stan, and the razor sharp icicle formed for Kyle goes right through Stan’s throat.

His eyes widen. Blood, so violently red and thick, spurts out of his neck. He opens his mouth in shock and blood pours out.

Kyle falls to his knees and screams.

They all watch as Stan takes his last, sputtering breath, using his last bit of energy to turn his head and look at Kyle.

“Kyle, no!! You can’t let go of Tweek!” Kenny yells through his own sobs.

There’s a rumble of thunder that sounds like a mocking laugh.

Kyle tries to keep chanting through his sobs, but he can’t breathe, much less keep it up. He crawls slowly towards him, hiccuping the words, slipping through the mud and blood and rain.

Stan’s eyes are empty, his skin already a sickly blue from the blood loss. Kyle turns his head carefully upwards and holds him, chanting the words in his lips.

“Mortals are so pitiful, aren’t they?” Cthulhu says, turning back to look at Kenny. “All it took was one little sharp icicle to kill him. I can feel your friend wavering. He’s almost lost his grip.” He turns back around and approaches Kyle. “Come on, make this easy for me. Not much reason for you to live now, right?”

Kyle clutches Stan’s body closer to him and buries his head in his wet hair. He’s wails the words to the spell, and there’s something so mournful in it, everyone there knows the sound will haunt them forever.

Tweek forms another icicle and aims it for Kyle.

Craig tackles him from the side. They slide together in the mud, and Craig put his hands around his pale throat.

“No, Craig, don’t!” Cthulhu begs in Tweek’s voice. The darkness in his eyes evaporate, and his eyes are back to the large, hazel ones Craig's lost himself in for years. “Please don’t!” He starts to cry.

“You’re not Tweek, you asshole,” Craig says, even though his voice wavers. “My Tweek would never do something like that.”

The capillaries burst in Tweek’s eyes as he gasps for air, and Craig tries not to throw up. Eventually his eyes roll back in his head, and Tweek’s body goes limp.

He’s still alive, but Craig has choked his physical body unconscious.

“Oh, no, you don’t, motherfucker!” Kenny roars, and Butters’s body lurches with the power Kenny uses to rip himself into another dimension.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Kenny has never travelled dimensions this fast, but he chases Cthulhu through the whirling blackness nonetheless.

“You asshole! You killed my best friend!”

Stan is dead. Kyle will never be the same, if he can even survive this grief. Charlie will never know her father. Wendy will have to live with the fact her last real interaction with Stan was asking for a divorce.

Kenny can feel his mind start to break, and he forces himself to focus on the chase.

Cthulhu suddenly stops in a dimension full of fire and brimstone. Kenny knows it’s not hell, but it might as well be.

“Finally, my son, just us,” Cthulhu purrs. “Like it should be.”

“Stop calling me that. I’m not your son,” Kenny snarls.

He notes with satisfaction how much weaker Cthulhu feels. Possessing Tweek, upping his powers that much, getting his physical body choked like that… Kenny can tell Cthulhu’s powers are drained.

He also knows it’s temporary, though.

“Join me,” Cthulhu says, “and I will spare your friends. Join me and feel pain no longer. What happens, Hastur, when your lover grows old? When your sister grows old? I could kill all of them right now, and no matter what, you’d wake up the next day to live in a world where everyone you love is dead.”

“Shut up,” Kenny whispers, fighting his words in his heart. “You killed one of my very best friends, you asshole.”

“And he rests in peace now, his soul where it should be. A luxury you will never feel until you join me.”

Kenny is still before reaching a hand slowly out. Cthulhu takes it gently with a tentacle and pulls Kenny towards him.

“A smart choice. Now you’ll take your place next to my throne, this time as my equal, King in Yellow.”

Kenny feels his powers intertwine with Cthulhu’s. The monster has pulled him almost flush to him in some sort of embrace.

Kenny slips one of Butters’s knives from underneath his shirt. When his fingers wrap around the handle, he pulsates his energy through it.

Kenny plunges it into the monster.

Cthulhu screams. “You idiot!” it roars, as it tries to throw Kenny across the room. Kenny holds on to the tentacle, though, with all his might.

He drags the knife down it.

“Only an immortal can kill an immortal, you dick!” he roars. “If I really am the Yellow KIng, then watch as I usurp your throne!”

Cthulhu slams him down on the floor, and Kenny is pretty sure he feels something break in his back.

He never lets go, though. “All the bullshit your curse has put me through - i never asked for this!”

“And I am the only one who can undo it! If you kill me, you kill your chances of ever being mortal!”

Kenny swallows at this. “Then so be it,” he says quietly in resolve, more to himself than the monster.

He unleashes his smoke tentacles, but this time they’re more solid than they’ve ever been. He plunges one straight through its core.

It screams. Kenny sends another one through it.

“You fool! You damn fool!”

One goes through whatever constitutes as the creature’s eyes, and it gurgles. It falls over with a huge thud, and starts to dissolve into black, acrid smoke.

Kenny drops to his knees, in disbelief it’s finally over. He feels his body sway, and he passes out in this strange dimension, too exhausted to stay conscious.


	7. Do not go gentle into that good night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a Tumblr - it's mediocrefanfics . You can send me suggestions, ask questions, chat!
> 
> Whoooo wheee we're done. 
> 
> I don't foresee (a long, multi-chapter) addition to this series anytime soon. I'm working on another story - if I can get up the guts lol.
> 
> Anyway, i hope everyone thoroughly enjoyed this.

_And you, my father, there on the sad height_

_Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray._

_Do not go gentle into that good night._

_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

_**"Do not go gentle into that good night"** , Dylan Thomas_

 

“Hi, Charlie!” Tucker coos, taking the hand of the little one-year-old in Wendy’s lap.

“Ah, be gentle,” Tweek reminds. Craig smiles as the affection inside of him swells.

Tweek looks dashing, in his tight dress pants and red vest, having discarded his suit jacket awhile ago. He catches Craig staring at him and grins, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear rather demurely.

The garden around them is strung up in lights, the sound of the gentle, cascading fountains mixing with the conversation of the finely-dressed guests and whatever jazz soundtrack Craig knows Bebe picked because he sure as hell knows Clyde didn’t choose it.

Despite the crowdedness of the venue, filled with familiar faces from South Park, old college buddies, cops from Clyde’s precinct, and Bebe’s co-workers from the station, Craig can tell Tweek is still relaxed, unusual for him in situations like these.

Looking around, he can tell everyone is at ease. Kenny and Butters dance slowly, faces close and talking quietly. Cartman and Token laugh at one of Jimmy’s jokes at the bar. Things have finally settled, and Craig can’t help but think Bebe and Clyde’s wedding is the perfect celebration for the new age.

“So,” Kyle asks, “Where do you think Bebe and Clyde went off to?”

Craig lets out that dry, monotone laugh of his and shakes his head. “Probably -“

“Not in front of the b-a-b-y!” Kyle snips, covering Charlie’s ears.

“I was gonna say doing the final wedding photos, but okay,” he says sassily, knowing very damn well that wasn’t what he was going to actually say. “ Also, why you’d spell out ‘baby’? She knows she’s a baby, Kyle, it isn’t a secret.” Wendy and Tweek chuckle, and Kyle shoots Craig a dirty look.

Tucker stumbles over to Craig, who scoops him into his lap. “Papa, am I still a baby?”

“Mmm… well, you're about to start school. Don't you think you're a big boy now?” Craig asks, his voice always so much softer for his son.

Tucker crosses his arms and pouts. “I don’t wanna go to preschool. I wanna stay with Daddy.”

Craig and Tweek exchange glances. “Well, Daddy is going to work like I do, and he’s not going to be home during the day. And if he’s not home during the day, who’s gonna make you mash potato?” Craig smooths the little boy’s hair down. “You’ll make so many friends, sweetie. You won’t even miss us after awhile.”

After long conversations and marriage counseling, Tweek decided to make good on his education in music and psychology. Those specialized in musical therapy aren’t common, so the local school system was more than happy to employ him for their special needs students.

It’s Tweek way of re-identifying himself, and he’s already flourishing in the chance to help kids like him. Craig sees a light in him again that had once been extinguished.

“What about Aunt Trish?” Craig pulls Tucker’s fingers out of his hair - shooting Tweek a look while he does so.

“Aunt Trish is having a baby of her own, Tucker. Remember? Aren’t you excited for your new cousin?”

Tucker nods quietly and nuzzles his head into Craig’s chest. He closes his eyes, and Craig soaks in the heavy warmth of his little body.

Tweek grabs Craig’s hand. “It might be time to go, honey,” he says, bringing Craig’s hand up to his lips.

Craig hums his assent, standing up carefully.

He observes the remaining two people at the table.

Wendy and Kyle look tired but much better than they have been. Kyle holds Charlie close to him, and Craig feels a pang in his heart.

“I guess we’ll see you later,” Craig says.

Wendy smiles up at them and takes Tweek’s hand to squeeze it. Tweek smiles back softly.

Craig is intensely grateful for Wendy and Kyle, who made it a priority to assure Tweek they know it wasn’t him who murdered Stan.

The little family walks out of the garden, towards the car.

“Hey,” Tweek says quietly, profoundly, in almost a whisper.

Craig’s breath catches. He’s not sure what Tweek is about to say or ask, but his pause sits heavy in the air.  

“Mmmmm …. can we stop by McDonalds on the way home?”

Tucker suddenly comes awake to the world and propels himself with enough gusto to make Craig have to catch him from launching out of his arms. He raises his little arms up in celebration. “Yay, McDonalds!”

Craig feels the sudden need to laugh and cry.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“I really think you should lead,” Kenny laughs. He’s not a bad dancer - he feels like fighting and sex are similar to dancing in a way, and he’s good at those - but Butters is obviously the better one of the two.

“Yeah, but it’s always easier when it’s the bigger person,” Butters says good-naturedly. “Here, fine, Ken. Follow my lead, then.”

They drift hazily on the dance floor. Butters leans his head on Kenny’s chest. “I’m glad you got your body back.”

“Same.” Kenny kisses the top of Butters’s head. “We should go home soon and unpack.”

“We should,” Butters agrees. He looks up suddenly, and Kenny can read Butters’s expression easily. It’s the same knitted eyebrows and pressed lips. He knows if Butters’s hands were free he’d rub them together nervously.

“Leo, if we can share the same body, and still be in love, we can live together,” Kenny says, smiling.

Butters smiles sweetly at Kenny calling him by his real name, something personal and touching about it. All night Kenny had introduced Butters as his boyfriend, much to the surprise of even their fellow heroes.

Despite the warm glow he feels in his heart, It’s his turn to comfort Kenny.

“What Cthulhu said… does it bother you?” Saying the creature’s name sounds dirty in the jolly atmosphere, but it’s been weighing on Butters.

Kenny shakes his head. “It does, but… if you’ll let me have you, then I’m gonna make the most of my time with you.”

Butters breaks their dance pose to wrap his arms around Kenny. “Let’s go home?”

“Yeah, let’s go home, Butterscup.”

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“So, how’s this co-parenting thing?” Cartman asks, sidling up to Kyle at the bar.

Kyle swigs the rest of his drink  and sets it down hard. “Good, actually.” He turns to look at Cartman, and Cartman is happy to see a flame behind those brown eyes he hasn’t seen in awhile. “I’m drunk, and I swear to god, Cartman, if you ever bring this up-.”

Kyle is interrupted by Kenny. “Hey, Butters and I are splitting, and just wanted to say bye.” He senses the weird air. “What? What’s going on?”

His eyes go from the uncharacteristic look on Cartman’s face to the empty glass in front of Kyle to the tears welling up in his eyes.

He slaps the bar and gets the attention of the bartender, ordering three drinks.

“I thought you were leaving?” Kyle asks quietly.

“Well, we’re gonna have a drink for Stan before I go,” Kenny says gently.

It’s the final push, and Kyle buries his face in his arms. “It’s still hard for me to get up in the morning.” His voice is shaky and muffled, but the pain is l evident.”But I have to be strong. I have to be strong for Charlie. For everyone. I should be over this. I should be doing better by now."

Kyle and Cartman put a hand on his back at the same time.

“What you’re doing… Stan would’ve been so happy you’re helping Wendy raise Charlie.” Kenny rubs Kyle’s back, sliding his new drink to him.

Kyle holds it tightly. “I wonder a lot about what everything would be like if he were still alive. We could’ve raised her together and been like a real family. Maybe this would’ve been our wedding instead of Clyde and Bebe’s. I’ll never know.”

Kenny is scared he’ll break the glass with how tight he’s gripping it.

“He was - is - the love of my life. Tweek, Heidi - in the end it was meant to be him.”

“Focus on the future, Kyle,” Cartman says. “You and Wendy seem to be happy together.”

They glance back at Wendy, who’s having a more cheerful conversation with Token while they dance.

“Wendy is great. I - she has every right to tell me to fuck off, but she doesn’t. It’s not like that, though,” Kyle says.

He suddenly looks up at Kenny, and Kenny knows the question that’s been hanging in the air between them since Stan’s death is about to be asked.

“Do you ever… hear him? I tried the other day, but I don’t know if it’s just not something I can do or if it’s….”

“It’s because he’s moved on to somewhere I can’t even go, Kyle. But please don’t ask me that again. That’s one of the worst parts of being who I am,” Kenny says, wrapping an arm around Kyle, attempting to soften the harshness in his words.

In the shadows of other dimensions, Kenny sometimes hears the voices of those who are transitioning from this dimension to either Heaven or Hell. And while he’s been to both, he never gets to see the souls inside.

“Let him rest, Kyle,” Kenny whispers. Kyle’s shoulders shake.

“It’s just because you’re drunk, Kyle. You’ve been good with Charlie, and you’re on your way to becoming a judge. And I know, this sounds crazy, but I really think you should give Heidi another chance. She was caught up in this just as much as us. Stan wouldn’t want you to be sad like this.”

Kyle looks up at Cartman and narrows his eyes. “Why have you been so nice to me lately?”

Cartman sighs. He wants to say ‘because you’re not the only one filling Stan’s shoes’, but instead he shrugs. “Because I’m not a dick.”

Kenny squeezes Kyle’s shoulder. “I’ve got to go. But Cartman’s right. Hey, listen - sober up, and tomorrow let’s go do something. The three of us. It’s been a long time.”

Kyle looks up and gives them both a watery smile. “Thanks, guys.”

Kenny bounds towards Butters, who’s been waiting next to one of the fountains. He smiles at him sympathetically.

“Everything okay?” Butters asks.

“Yeah, baby, everything is fine. Thanks for waiting.” He loops his arm Butters.

_You’ve got to let go soon, Stan. Your business is finished here._

_“I know,”_ Stan says. _“I just, I just need to see him happy again.”_

_We’ve got him. No one here is going to let him fall._

Stan is quiet. _“Promise?”_

_Promise._


End file.
